Heart of the Black Wizard
by Ari-Azadeth
Summary: The war between Voldemort and the forces of light has ended, and Harry Potter is left as the sole survivor on Earth. When the Valar comes to him and offers him a new chance in Arda in exchange for his assistance in the war of the One Ring, what will Harry do? What does Harry's fate hold in store for him in Middle Earth? Slash, AU, Powerful! Harry
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks for choosing to read this story! If you are already following it, I have edited some conflicting mistakes and made things run a little smoother, but it isn't necessary to re-read this as there are no major plot changes.**

**Please read and review! Enjoy.**

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings.**

Silence.

The once vibrant and green Earth was strewn with the blood of the bodies that littered it. Death had taken over.

The war between Voldemort and Britain's magical world had leaked the existence of magic to the muggle world. Within months, muggle armies were raised to combat Voldemort's forces of evil and every major country was warring with each other. Destruction rose to an immense level.

Britain's magical civil war had turned into a worldwide bloodfest between the blood purists and the light wizards who allied with the muggle armies.

For two years constant warfare raged on Earth, annihilating entire countries in days and decimating the global population. Nuclear weapons and powerful dark spells caused catastrophic damage on both sides.

Now, the war was finally over, and the world was lifeless.

However, not everything was lost.

One person survived the utter mayhem, a dark haired young wizard with haunted emerald eyes.

The sounds of battle still echoed in the ears of the sole living creature left on Earth. Harry Potter sat on the hill overlooking the ruins of Hogwart's Groundskeeper hut, staring blankly into the rising sun.

The weather this morning was picturesque but ill-fitting: sunny, slight breeze, warm day. However, the nice weather could not hide the bodies of his last loyal friends and comrades that lay before him. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Ginny, Fred and George, and Remus were gently placed in a row, their eyes lovingly closed.

He had surrounded their bodies with lilies and bay wreaths that he conjured. They could have all been asleep, except for the bloody gashes on Remus's neck and Neville's discolored skin. The rest had fallen to the killing curse, fired off by the now dead deatheaters.

Raising his hand, he cast a murmured, "Incendio." Great flames sprung from his hand and in less than a minute, only ash remained in place of the bodies. Harry whispered, "Goodbye, everyone. I hope you are at peace now."

Shaking his head to snap himself out of the mournful trance, he got up from the hill and wandered to the Black Lake. The scene was desolate. The Giant Squid floated near the shore, dead and rotting in the sun. Fish carcasses were everywhere, and the smell of death was especially potent.

Falling to his knees, Harry put his head into his hands, and finally let out his repressed sobs. This war took his family, his friends, his future. What did he have left, now that everyone was gone? The world was dead. There were no owls flitting from tree to tree in search of prey, or centaur galloping through the Forbidden Forest. It was silent except for his cries.

He glared up at the sky and screamed in a fit of rage, "Are you happy now? I'm done! I did my best!"

He let out a burst of hysterical laughter when no one answered him. Of course not. He was alone again for what seemed the millionth time in his life.

He lost his parents as a baby, and his godfather, his wise mentor, and his friends were all killed in the war. He had become used to this pain, the crushing feeling that accompanied loneliness.

He closed his eyes and curled up in a ball on the shore, wishing to sleep forever so that he could escape this nightmarish graveyard.

When Harry woke, he found himself surrounded by a white mist. He called out, "Hello? Is someone there?" There was no answer. He walked around for a while, or what seemed like a long time, since there was no since of time passing in the white mist, but found nothing. Frustrated, he commented, "Merlin's saggy balls! If this is heaven then this bloody well sucks." In response, a woman's voice called out.

"This is not heaven, Harry James Potter." Harry jumped, and asked cautiously,

"So then, where am I? And who are you?" He could not sense any presences nearby him, so he poured out a small amount of magic to use his mage sight. Blinking at the sudden change in vision, he took a step back when he saw several shining, indistinct beings standing in a half circle around him. The man-like being in the center of the semi circle nodded his head in greeting.

"Young Harry, I am Manwe of the Valar, and I wish to offer you a deal." Still stricken with grief and loneliness, Harry responded with fervor.

"What do you mean 'a deal'? I don't want to get involved in anything. I just want to join my family and friends in the afterlife. My world is dead." Manwe smiled sadly.

"Yes, it is a tragic occurrence, the death of Earth. However, we Valar wish to send you to a new world. It is not yet your time to join the afterlife. Not for a long while to come." The woman standing next to Manwe spoke next.

"I am Varda, Queen of the Stars. The world of Arda, of Middle Earth, will soon be plunged into war and bloodshed. The dark grows strong and numerous while the light dwindles and flickers. One of the wizards, Saruman the White, has betrayed us. We wish to send you to restore the light and guide them. You are powerful beyond your years."

Harry cried out, "No! I cannot do it again. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can help you in this war. I've seen too much death." A different woman then stepped forward, tears dripping down her cheeks.

"My name is Nienna, the Lady of Mercy. You have seen much pain and suffering in your short life, dear child. But do not despair, for if you decide to venture on this quest, you will soon be at peace. The one your heart longs for will soon be with you."

Harry was speechless for several moments as he digested the conversation with the divine beings before he whispered, "What do you mean by 'the one my heart longs for'?" Nienna smiled gently through her tears.

"Your soulmate, dear child, resides in Arda."

Harry was shocked. He wasn't sure what to say or do.

On one hand, he could pass on and rejoin his family and friends in whatever afterlife existed, or he could go to this world of Arda and try to start anew. The chance to meet his soulmate was so tempting. In his 19 years of life, he had always had a niggling fear in the back of his mind, especially with the years of war, that he would never know what it was like to love or be loved unconditionally, whether it was parental love or the love of a lover. He had always been too busy trying to train and survive the near constant attempts on his life.

However, soulmate or not, he had just gone through a terrible war, and wanted to rest. Could he deal with the terror, the darkness of war? Would he even be able to help them?

He could almost hear Hermione's voice scolding him for doubting his ability. He could imagine her giving a long lecture on how he should take the chance to meet his other half and that he already had a 'people saving thing', so it shouldn't be much of a choice. It wasn't like he was weak. The war on Earth had given his instructors due cause to intensify his training until he was a Master of the Mind Arts, Defense, Dueling, Language, and Healing, not to mention a number of other skills. His family and friends would be angry with him if he threw away this chance.

Nodding his head in decision, he looked at Manwe, and said, "I'll go." Manwe nodded in acceptance and thanks.

"Child, we of the Valar will bless you with eternal youth as a sign of our gratitude, among other things, as your mate is of the Eldar, the elves, and it would be tragic to spend such a fleeting amount of time together if you remained mortal. Now, close your eyes, and when you wake you shall be near Rivendell, the Last Homely House of Lord Elrond. Farewell, child of Earth."

Harry closed his eyes.

The trickling sound of a nearby stream alerted Harry to his change in location, and he cautiously opened his eyes. Sitting up, he took stock of his surroundings, which was a small clearing in an ancient forest. He looked at one of the tall oak trees across the clearing. Every leaf on the tree was visible and clear to him without the use of his glasses or a magnifying spell, and he could hear the pitter patter of a small animal's feet over 200 yards away. It seemed that the Valar had done more than give him immortality. He could feel the raw strength running through his body, and he felt more refreshed and energized than ever before.

Looking down at his body, it seemed that while he was still stuck at his height of 5 '8", he no longer had the scrawny, malnourished appearance that was a result of his poor upbringing in the Dursley household. Instead, he was leanly muscled, with raven hair that curled around his ears in a neater fashion than his usual bird's nest. His body was clad completely in black, with black dragon hide breeches and a vest of the same material, and an acromantula silk shirt underneath. He had on knee-high leather boots and a thick, hooded black cloak was fastened at his throat with a golden phoenix brooch. Pheonixes sown in green thread were visible on the collar of his shirt, and he had a canvas knapsack resting near his feet.

Harry looked around him for his wand, and checked the knapsack when he couldn't see it. Inside the knapsack was a bedroll, a sack of galleons, and a wizarding picture of his family and friends. No wand was present. Feeling panicked, he tore off his cloak and searched through the pockets. How was he supposed to perform magic without his wand?

Finally, he sighed and muttered, "This would be so much easier if I could just _accio _my wand to me." As if in response, a staff flew at him from within the forest. Surprised, he barely caught it before it smacked him in the face. The staff was almost six feet long, and black as obsidian. The entire length was covered in gold leaf detailing phoenixes, unicorns, and dragons in different poses. A fist sized emerald rested at the top of the staff attached by a ring of silver leaves. It was deadly and beautiful looking.

Harry could feel the power thrumming through the staff, warm and welcoming to him. It was like when he first received his wand from Ollivander, only intensified a hundredfold.

Now that he had collected himself and found a magical focus, Harry stood and looked around. Where to go? He had no idea where he was. Lord Manwe had told him he would be transported near some place named Rivendell, so maybe if he got above the treeline, he would be able to see a building or two. Gripping his staff firmly, he willed his magic to lift him into the air. Magic was mostly about intention, and only the most advanced and powerful acts truly needed a spell to work. Of course, in those cases one had to have the power to perform the spell as well.

When he was ten feet off the ground and rising, several shocked gasps broke his concentration and he stopped to hover in mid air. Looking down, he saw a dark haired man carrying what seemed to be a child, and three other child sized men trailing behind. A great evil surrounded the person in the man's arms, and Harry could sense that the man-child was severely wounded by something of a dark magical nature. Frowning, he lowered himself back to the ground and approached the wary group.

The man shifted his burden to one arm and gripped the hilt of his sword with the other. It was clear that he was feeling very paranoid at the moment, so Harry stilled, and gently said, "My name is Harry Potter, and I may be able to help your friend. I can sense he has been wounded by some sort of dark magic." The man's eyes widened, and he asked,

"What are you, stranger? You carry a staff that is more grand than Olorin's, and yet you are young in age. How could you help to heal a wound created by a wraith? Why should I trust you?"

"I am a wizard, if that's what your asking. I don't know what my age has to do with this, since I am more than experienced in the art of healing, among other things. I swear, I will bring no harm to your friend. I only wish to heal him."

The man studied him, and something in Harry's earnest eyes must have convinced him of his truthfulness, for he stepped towards Harry and carefully laid the wounded person on the grass. "I am Strider, and this hobbit here is young Frodo. He was stabbed with a Morgul-blade by the chief of the Nazgul, the Witch King of Angmar."

Two of the other so-called hobbits piped up. "I'm Pippin, and this is Merry. Nice to meet ya, Mr. Potter." The third one, who had been watching distrustfully the entire time, said shortly, "Sam. Now don't you hurt Mr. Frodo anymore, hear me?'

Harry gave him a solemn nod before he turned his attention to the shivering, gasping hobbit in front of him. Carefully peeling back his shirt to reveal the oozing, pus-filled wound, Harry raised his staff in one hand and pointed it at the wound. The emerald began to glow softly, and black pus started to come out of the stab wound and gather into a floating black mass at the tip of the emerald topped staff. When no more came out, Harry flung the ooze at the grass, which turned yellow with death immediately. He began to wave the staff over the wound again, and the wound healed rapidly until only a faint pink scar marked the place of the near fatal injury.

Strider and the hobbits stared in amazement, and Harry blushed when he realized the intense scrutiny and awe that was being directed towards him. He muttered, "Frodo just needs to rest now. He'll probably sleep for a few days to regain his strength."

Strider, who had regained his composure, exclaimed, "By the Valar, Mr. Potter, that was a feat that I had not known possible. Please, if there is something I may offer you, I am in your debt."

Harry, who was still trying to grasp where he was, responded, "Ah! The Valar! Those are the beings that sent me here. Tell me, is Rivendell nearby? I am supposed to meet with a Lord Elrond. Also, call me Harry."

Strider blinked in shock when Harry said this, and said slowly, "We are headed to Rivendell right now, Harry. Did you just say that the Valar have sent you here?"

Harry nodded, "Yes, that's true. The Valar asked me to come and help as a war is brewing in these lands. They have sent me as an ally to the forces of good."

Strider reached out a hand to grip Harry's shoulder tightly, "Well, Harry, I am glad to have you here, then. You have a powerful aura. I can tell you will bring much strength to us all. Now let's be on our way. It is still several hours walk to Rivendell."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings.**

Chapter 2: Rivendell, here I come!

The trek through the forest was strenuous and long, and for the hobbits, who lacked experience and endurance, it was quite miserable. Harry himself felt like he could go on forever, but he suspected that his overabundant energy came from the changes made in his body by the Valar. No longer was he neglected and malnourished, but healthy and strong. He sent a mental thank you to the Valar. Merlin knows he would have collapsed three hours ago without the power boost.

Taking pity on the whining creatures, Harry stopped to pick up a rock and willed it to change into one of the colorful tropical birds he had seen on an advertisement once in London. The hobbits, suitably distracted from their tired legs, instantly asked him to do something else. Hours later, Harry was regretting his decision to cheer them up as Merry and Pippin pranced around him begging to see another "cool magic trick". As he created a butterfly from a nearby leaf, he wished that he could just apparate to Rivendell. Unfortunately, he didn't know what it looked like, and therefore it wasn't possible. Strider, who was leading the group through a particularly thick part of the forest, turned his head back and chuckled in amusement at Harry's weary face. "Pippin, Merry, leave the poor man alone. Save your breath for breathing, not speaking."Harry breathed out a sigh of relief as the duo ran up to where Sam was walking with Strider, who carried the still unconscious Frodo.

Silent and weary, the group travelled on in the morning chill.

…..

At last, more sunlight was coming through the sparser and sparser trees, until finally they cleared the edge of the forest. They were met with a breathtaking sight.

Rivendell was a myriad of open, intricately carved stone hallways and rooms, beautiful gazebos and gardens, and majestic palatial rooms and walkways. The spacious, exquisite estate was grander than Hogwart's soaring towers and medieval air. Rivendell was more ancient, and sacred than the magical castle.

Harry could sense a wild but welcoming ambient magic throughout, caressing and exploring his power. His magic, also curious to examine Rivendell's energy, flared up in return. To others, it seemed that he began to emit green, shimmering waves of light. The elves that had come out of Rivendell's halls when they saw the travelers arrive whispered, "IstariHe had closed his eyes to revel in the warm sensation, and when he opened them, was greeted by the amazed stares of several elves, Strider, and the hobbits. A regal , dark haired elf stepped towards Harry.

"Mae govannen (well met), Lord Potter, to Imladris. I am Elrond. Lórien, Master of Dreams, sent me visions of your arrival, and of your deeds. You are worthy of much praise, Istari (wizard)." Harry bowed his head, saddened at the reminder of the war.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond, but all I did was survive. Many good people lost their lives in that war." Lord Elrond put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Young Istari (wizard), you helped a great number of people in need when others stood by and ignored them. I am proud to call you an ally in this dark time." Elrond turned to Strider and continued, "Mae Govannen (well met), Aragorn. How is Frodo? He does not appear injured."

Strider, or Aragorn, as Lord Elrond called him, responded, "My Lord, Harry healed Frodo of a wound created by a Morgul-blade. It was an amazing sight."

Lord Elrond appeared shocked, and then smiled. "Then we are even luckier to have Lord Potter as a friend. Not only a warrior, but a healer. I wonder what other skills you possess, Morë Istari (Black Wizard). Now, come inside and rest for a while."

…

After Harry had been shown to a spacious room and his belongings had been put away along with his cloak, he set off around Rivendell to try and find the library. He figured that he should know the history behind the war if he was going to be risking his life to fight. On his way, he passed Lord Elrond and an old man dressed in gray who reminded him of Dumbledore. Lord Elrond, seeing him, invited him into his study to talk.

Lord Elrond introduced Harry to the old man, a wizard by the name of Gandalf the Grey. Harry took an instant liking to the man who reminded him so much of his deceased mentor.

Once they were all seated comfortably on the balcony outside the office, Harry said, "Rivendell is beautiful. Even more grand and majestic than Hogwarts Castle. It's peaceful here."

"Yes, it is peaceful now. However, soon the days of peace will come to an end. The world is on the cusp of war," Gandalf responded.

Lord Elrond watched as Harry stared at his hands, seemingly deep in thought. After several minutes, it seemed that Harry had come to a decision. He asked hesitantly, "I have a skill called legilimency where I can look at the memories of a person. I don't use it without permission on my allies, so you don't have to worry. It's just, I really want to know the history of this world, but it seems too big a task to accomplish by just reading about it. Would it be possible…?" He trailed off, worried at asking such a personal thing of the wise beings.

Lord Elrond observed the young man squirm in his seat, obviously expecting rejection. It seemed that the wizard had some deep seated trust issues. Seeing no harm in allowing the young man to see the memories that held historical significance, he nodded. "You may view mine, but I request that you only seek out memories that pertain to the history of this world."

Harry looked surprised, and then grateful. "Okay, then, please look directly in my eyes when you've thought of the memory you want to show me. I will see it."

…

Hours later Harry was reeling from the intake of information and the extent of the Dark Lord Sauron's power. It was so similar to Voldemort and his horcruxes, only stronger and more evil. Once again, a dark lord had split his soul and placed it in a piece of jewelry. Apparently, the One Ring was even harder to destroy as well. It had to be thrown into the fires of Mount Doom, the volcano that rested right in the middle of enemy territory.

Before he had left the study, Lord Elrond had invited him to a secret council to be held the next day. The Lord of Rivendell had invited all the allied races of Middle Earth to meet to discuss how they would destroy the ring. He wanted Harry there to represent the wizards along with Gandalf the Grey. As Harry was planning on helping out in this war, he saw no harm in it.

Whatever reservations he had of coming to this world and fighting in another war were gone when he viewed Lord Elrond's memories. As usual, he couldn't let innocent people be harmed. Hermione was right. He definitely had a people saving thing. Sighing, he swore, "Merlin's balls!"

**End of Chapter 2: **

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP or LOTR. **

**Thanks for the reviews and enjoy the story!**

**Chapter 3: The Meeting of Hearts**

It was the day of the council, and Harry was in one of the many courtyards of Rivendell, hoping to get some practice in with his staff fighting. Mad-eye Moody, one of his many trainers during the war, had drilled him in a large variety of weapon skills, including a staff, citing his ever famous, "Constant vigilance!" Apparently one also needed to know how to use a dagger, bow, broadsword, pike, katana, police baton, baseball bat, paperclip and sowing needle as weapons. Needless to say Harry became very good at adapting to different styles of fighting. A few rounds of practice and he would be swinging his staff like an expert.

Dressed only in his leather pants, boots, and a sleeveless tunic, he blocked out all the noise except for the sound of his heartbeat and his breathing. Harry breathed in deeply several times. Holding the staff in a relaxed but firm grip, he began a warmup, slowly twirling the staff and running through basic swings. Eventually, he sped up, inserting high kicks, sweeps, and other techniques. He was a sight to see, graceful and fluid, yet powerful and deadly. Not once did his concentration waver.

Completely focused on his routine, he failed to notice the growing crowd of elven warriors and men who gathered to watch the powerful Istari. He finished what he deemed a light workout, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, and finally looked around him, eyes widening in surprise when he saw the crowd of people watching him.

"Umm, hello there, everyone," he began hesitantly. The crowd began to break up, men and elves patting him on the back before they walked away, complimenting his skills. Only two elves and a man Harry recognized as Aragorn stayed behind. Both of the elves were blonde, though one's hair was much more golden than the blonde-white of the other. They were both extremely handsome, as all elves seemed to be and taller than Aragorn, who already towered over Harry's lean 5'8" frame at 6'2".

Aragorn looked much cleaner and happier looking than he had been on the trip to Rivendell. His clothes were of finer cloth than before and he had a light in his eyes that wasn't present previously. Harry could understand, for Rivendell truly was a magical, peaceful place.

Aragorn stepped forward to introduce Harry to his elven companions. "Harry, this is Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, and Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas, Glorfindel, this is Lord Harry Potter, the _Möre Istari."_

Lord Glorfindel grasped Harry's hand firmly in greeting, remarking, "_Suilaid_ (greetings). Your skills with the staff are admirable, _Möre Istari_ (black wizard)."

"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel."

Harry turned to the other elf, Prince Legolas, and held out his hand. The blonde elf was gorgeous with his icy blue eyes and symmetrical, masculine features. He had a lean muscled build, and was several inches taller than Harry. Prince Legolas reached his hand out, saying, "_Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo, Möre Istari _(A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, black wizard)."

The two immortals clasped hands and immediately a spark of fire trickled through their connected bodies like a whoosh of warmth and happiness. Harry's hand tingled and trembled where it touched Legolas, though not in a bad way. The tingling was a wonderful sensation, and for the first time in his life, Harry felt complete. Opening his eyes, though he hadn't even noticed closing them, he looked into Legolas' intense blue eyes, which were staring at him in both surprise and shock.

A memory of Lady Nienna of Mercy came to mind, and he suddenly remembered the crying lady had sworn that his elven soulmate lived in Arda. It seemed that Harry had found the elf already. There was no doubt in his mind that Legolas was his true soulmate.

The overwhelming prospect of having someone that would understand and care about you no matter what was earthshaking to Harry. Growing up in the Dursley household where he was told constantly that he was a worthless freak had damaged his self esteem greatly. While his time in Hogwarts did wonders for it because of all of his loyal and supportive friends, Harry still had trouble trusting people. When Hagrid had come to give him his invitation to Hogwarts, and explained that he was the Boy-Who-Lived, the Dark Lord's slayer, his Slytherin side came out with force. He had immediately concocted the average student, cliche hero personality to use in public at Hogwarts. Of course. he acted like his true self to his friends, smart, powerful and compassionate, but he hid behind the mask in daily life.

It was just like when he was younger and the Dursleys punished him for getting good grades. He had learned quickly to hide his intelligence and live behind the facade of a meek young boy when in the Dursley household.

Now, Harry was faced with the idea of soul mates, people that are born to share the highest level of love and companionship with each other, and he was nervous. What if Legolas' culture didn't accept male-male pairings? What if Legolas was already with someone? Elves lived for a long time, and for all he knew, Legolas had been married for a thousand years and had no inclination of starting a relationship with Harry.

The whole time Harry's worried thoughts swam through his head, his magic swirled around him, buzzing with contentedness. No matter what Harry stressed over mentally, his magic recognized Legolas as his soulmate and was quite happy to float around them in a relaxed manner.

A joyful laugh shook them out of their stupor. Aragorn and Lord Glorfindel stood by with huge smiles on their faces. Lord Glorfindel said, "Legolas, _Yallume_! (At last!) Is he the one?"

….

Legolas had woken that morning with a feeling that the day would turn out well. However, he had never imagined that he would have met his soulmate in the mysterious young wizard that arrived at Rivendell the day before.

Aragorn, Glorfindel and he were on their way to practice their weapon skills for the day when they noticed a small crowd of elves and men watching someone do a staff routine in a courtyard. Aragorn said, "Ah, that is the _Istari_, Harry Potter. He is quite good with the staff."

Glorfindel, who looked intrigued, responded, "Then shall we go and observe?" Nodding their heads in agreement, the trio made their way down to the courtyard. Joining the growing crowd, they watched as Harry commenced a set of low sweeping kicks and thrusts with the staff. Legolas was struck by the deadly but beautiful dance, which was complimented by the strikingly handsome appearance of the wizard himself.

Legolas, who had no previous romantic inclinations because he had not yet found his soulmate, was surprised to find himself admiring the way the wizard's vest would tighten across his chest when he would execute a wide swing, and the lean muscles rippling in his legs as he spun and kicked. Shaking his head to get himself out of his unabashed ogling, he turned to Aragorn and Lord Glorfindel only to see them watching the _Istari_ intensely, analyzing his form. Legolas felt an unreasonable amount of jealousy and anger that the two were staring at the wizard in admiration. For whatever reason, he didn't want anyone looking at the emerald eyed _Istari_.

After Harry had finished his routine, Aragorn offered to introduce him to the two elves. Glorfindel agreed, citing his curiosity about the young looking wizard. Legolas agreed as well, his decision fed by his unnatural pull towards the dark haired man.

Aragorn introduced Glorfindel first, and then Legolas. Legolas had barely touched Harry's skin when an enormous spark ran down his hand and through his body. His heart constricting in his chest, Legolas' eyes widened and he stared at the wizard in shock. After three thousand years of solitary existence in the lands of Middle Earth, he had finally found his soul mate, his eternal love. Legolas thanked the Valar profusely that his father had decided to send him to represent the elves of Mirkwood at the council of the One Ring in _Imladris_.

Without that decision, he would never have met the strikingly handsome wizard who was destined to be his mate. Yet here Harry was. Wavy black hair that curled gently around his ears, smooth pale skin, a soothing tenor voice and eyes as green as an emerald that reminded Legolas of the trees of his home in Mirkwood.

Aragorn's gruff, happy laugh alerted him to the others' continued presences, and Legolas blushed at Glorfindel's next comment about "the one". Before he could answer, a gong rang, signaling the calling for the council. He released his hand from Harry's and asked pleadingly, "May I meet with you later, Lord Potter?"

Harry, who waved his staff and was instantly clothed in black robes worthy of his title of Lord, nodded with a hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. "I'd be glad to, your highness."

Legolas smiled down at him, and whispered softly, "Please, call me Legolas."

Harry gave a lopsided grin in return. "Of course, but then you have to call me Harry."

**End of Chapter 3:**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again for the reviews and the welcome responses to Heart of the Black Wizard! Enjoy the chapter…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP or LOTR.**

**Chapter 4: The Council**

_"I amar prestar aen…_

The world is changed.

_Han mathon ne nen…_

I feel it in the water.

_Han mathon ne chae…_

I feel it in the Earth.

_A han noston ned gwilith._

I smell it in the air.

Much that once was is lost. For none now live who remember it."

- The Fellowship of the Ring

….

Harry was directed to a seat among the semi-circle of Men, Elves and Dwarves that sat around a stone pedestal. He ended up next to Gandalf the Grey, who greeted him with a mischievous grin.

"Quite a good view, Master Potter. Don't you think?" Gandalf flicked his eyes across the circle where Legolas was sitting.

Gandalf chuckled as Harry blushed faintly. The young wizard very deliberately did not look at the elf, who had heard Gandalf's comment and was laughing softly. Damn those elf senses.

Finally, Harry thought the two beings had enjoyed enough fun at his expense, and he said sassily, "Yes, indeed. How is the view from your seat, Master Gandalf? Anyone catch your eye?"

Gandalf let loose a deep laugh, startling Frodo who was seated on the other side of him. "No, dear boy, the esteemed Lord Elrond isn't my type."

Harry was struck with sorrow at the fondly spoken "dear boy". Dumbledore called him that back when Harry had still been attending Hogwarts. Before his hellish training for the war that destroyed earth, before his innocence had been robbed of him and he had become hardened to the sight of corpses littering the streets.

He looked down at his hands. Hands that were stained with the blood of the world he failed to protect. His fingers slowly curled into a fist, and his eyes shut in pained remembrance of his loved ones.

Legolas frowned as he saw Harry's face fall in sadness. He rose halfway from his seat, ignoring Glorfindel's questioning glance, but before he could attempt to cross to Harry's side, Lord Elrond stood, and the circle instantly grew quiet. The Council had begun.

….

Harry was in awe of the regal and lordly way Elrond conducted the meeting. Although he had already learned of the lore surrounding the One Ring and its evil, he was spellbound as Elrond recited his tale and bid the allies to destroy the ring.

Elrond really was an unparalleled leader. Harry, who had led an army of wizards and muggles in an attempt to keep Earth and its inhabitants safe from the forces of evil, understood how difficult it was to convince a group of very different people to decide on one thing and do it in a timely manner.

Eventually, Elrond called Frodo forth to present the Ring. The small hobbit carefully set the ominous jewelry on the pedestal, and returned to his seat, playing nervously with his tunic. It troubled him to be parted from the ring.

Harry could see shadows stretching between the ring and Frodo. They writhed and stretched constantly, winding themselves around Frodo's body and mind, trying to twist, corrupt, and destroy him.

A ragged looking man gathered the attention of the council and started to give a speech. His name was Boromir, Son of Denethor.

This Boromir fellow, from the White City of Gondor, rambled on and on about how he had a dream vision of the Ring, Isildur's Bane, and how he should take the "gift" of the One Ring for his country. Frankly, Harry was annoyed.

The wizard watched expressionlessly as Boromir strode towards the pedestal, his hand reaching out for the ring.

Right before he could grasp it, Gandalf jumped up, and dark clouds appeared from nowhere to hover over the council as a cruel, chilling wind whipped through them. Boromir fell back into his seat at the ominous event.

Gandalf, his eyes shadowed, spoke with a dark, foreboding tone,

"_Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, _

_ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul._

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them.*"

Elrond rose and sternly rebuked Gandalf, "Never before has any voice uttered the words of that tongue here in _Imladris_.*"

Gandalf rasped, "I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West! The Ring is altogether Evil!*"

He sat down with a final glare toward Boromir.

Harry almost lost his composure from the sheer absurdity as Boromir rose once again and blabbered how he could use the ring for good, and that his people deserved the ring since they fought against Mordor all the time, and so on and so forth. Harry's respect towards Elrond rose as the elf lord stood calm and firm in his resolution that the Ring must be destroyed without resorting to kicking Boromir out of the meeting.

Finally, Aragorn got annoyed with Boromir's long-winded speech, and stood up, saying, "You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master.*"

Boromir retorted, **"**And what would a ranger know of this matter?*"

Harry watched as Legolas stood to defend Aragorn. "This is no mere ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance.*"

Boromir whispered in shock, "Aragorn? This... is Isildur's heir?*"

Legolas asserted, "And heir to the throne of Gondor.*"

Harry almost laughed aloud at the poorly concealed disgust on Boromir's face. After Aragorn had calmed Legolas down, Boromir threw himself back in his chair with one last petty comment. "Gondor needs no king.*"

Harry smirked at the likeness between the angry pouting face of Draco Malfoy and Boromir at that moment. It was uncanny the way both of their eyes narrowed and the left side of their mouth pulled down in a petulant manner.

The distracted wizard's attention was brought back to the council when a dwarf slammed an axe into the Ring with a resounding gong, only to have the weapon shatter into thousands of tiny pieces. By a stroke of luck a particularly dangerous looking shard embedded itself just to the right of Harry's head. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to face Elrond, who spoke. "The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Glóin, by any craft that we here possess. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came.*"

Harry had to restrain himself from stupefying the entire council as another argument broke out about who would take the ring to Mordor. He knew, however, who would be the one to take it. The little hobbit he had healed in the woods. His eyes, they reminded Harry of himself once upon a time. Frodo was an innocent thrust into the hands of fate. This was the reason the Valar wanted him to come to Middle Earth, to protect the ring bearer and his companions.

Harry stood and raising his staff, said firmly, not loudly, "Be quiet." His magic carried his voice to everyone's ears, and the shouting council grew silent. "Now, Frodo, you may speak."

Frodo, who fidgeted under the eyes of the council, whispered, "I will take the ring to Mordor. Though I do not know the way.*"

Gandalf sighed in a resigned way. Apparently he had suspected that the hobbit was fated to be the ringbearer.

One by one, Aragorn, Gimli the Dwarf, Legolas, Gandalf and a reluctant Boromir swore to help Frodo carry out his task. Suddenly, the three hobbits who travelled alongside Harry to Rivendell, Merry, Pippin and Sam, all sprung from their respective hiding spaces and shouted, "We're coming too!" and "Mr. Frodo ain't going nowhere without me!"

Harry laughed and agreed, "Yes, it seems you were meant to come along as well. Elrond, I will join this group as well. My powers will be put to good use there."

Elrond nodded, and declared, "Ten walkers to escort the Ring to its doom. Then you shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

…

As the others departed, Harry stayed behind, feeling increasingly nervous. Soon, the only ones left in the council's meeting place were Harry and Legolas.

Legolas had this look on his face that spoke of hope and joy, but Harry remained anxious. Harry cleared his throat. "Legolas, I…" He trailed off.

Legolas smiled gently, and took Harry's hand in his. He whispered softly, "I do not know from whence you came or why, but I feel more gladdened than ever in my long life to know your face. In the ways of my people, we would wait alone for eternity for the chance to know one such as you are to me."

Harry shook his head, confused. Legolas was implying something both fantastic and unbelievable. While Harry had felt content with the strong friendships he forged with his ragtag group, they were just his allies and comrades. He cared deeply for each one of them, and missed them, but he had never felt like his existence would end without their presence. It scared him that Legolas made him feel that way. Although Harry had decided to go to Middle Earth first as a new start, a way to find his soulmate, and then also to protect the innocent people who were threatened in this land by evil even greater than Voldemort, he still couldn't comprehend that Legolas, his living, breathing, handsome soulmate stood before him.

Legolas raised his other hand and cupped Harry's cheek. Harry blushed, red flooding his cheeks at the intimate gesture. The elven prince said with conviction, "Harry Potter, Lord and Wizard, you are my soulmate. I could feel it the moment we met. An instant connection was forged. I can feel it binding us together like two drops of water placed next to each other. We are becoming one."

The wizard placed his free hand over the elf's hand on his cheek, and stated hesitantly, "I do not know what to do. I have never been… like this before."

Legolas could tell that Harry meant to say "loved", and it saddened him. He pressed his lips to Harry's forehead and then pulled the wizard into a warm embrace. "I can tell you have not had an easy life, _melleth nin (my love), _if you have not felt loved before. I will do my best to make it so you never have to feel that way again. I swear it, _istari nin (my wizard)_."

…

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of training and preparation for the trek to Mordor. In what little spare time they had, Legolas and Harry met and took walks in the gardens. After hearing of Legolas's tales of growing up in Mirkwood as the Prince of the woodland realm, and his adventures to far off lands in Middle Earth, the wizard finally opened up and told Legolas about his fight against Voldemort and the horrific war, his sadness for his parents' murders, his cruel life at the Dursley's and the precious friends he managed to make at Hogwarts. Legolas was both enthralled and aggrieved at his stories. He wanted to know everything about Harry's life, and resolved to protect his soulmate from such despair. If he could, he would slay every person that damaged his love, especially those vile Dursleys. He would love to get his hands on them.

Finally the day of departure came, and the fellowship met at dawn to be sent off by the elves of Rivendell. Harry noticed the jeweled pendant hanging from Aragorn's neck that hadn't been there before. He also perceived Elrond's daughter Arwen's grief and love toward Aragorn. Harry's magic reached out to her, and he spoke into her mind, 'I will keep him safe, Lady Arwen. Do not despair. Your love isn't lost yet.'

She gave him a grateful smile. Harry turned and followed the group, who was heading out onto the path out of Rivendell. He heard Frodo ask Gandalf quietly, "Mordor, is it left or right?*"

"Left.*"

*- Quotes from the movie, The Fellowship of the Ring. I do not claim ownership and only use them to add to the validity and plot of my story.

**End of Chapter 4:**

**Please Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews, folks! **

**In response to some of the reviews, I wanted to say that I will be straying from canon in some parts to augment Harry's role in the war. I am not going to completely change the LOTR plot, only add in or switch around a couple scenes and outcomes. I think it will make a more interesting story on my part to be able to play around with some of the characters… Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new chapter!**

**Chapter 5: Trust is an Issue, So Save the Prince Instead**

Days later the Fellowship had traveled through the woods, and were traipsing over open plains and hillsides. They paused to rest for a moment on a hill in the wild.

Gandalf, sucking on a freshly lit pipe, said, "We must hold this course west of the Misty Mountains for forty days. If our luck holds, the Gap of Rohan will still be open to us. From there our road turns east to Mordor."

Merry and Pippin jumped up and began sparring with Boromir, laughing and shouting dramatic war cries as they finally tackled the Gondorian. Aragorn sat by smoking and giving words of encouragement to the silly creatures as they continued their mock battle. Hobbits were a hardy folk. The hobbits that had struggled to keep up on the way to Rivendell were now marching like well seasoned travelers. No longer did they stumble or fall behind from weariness.

That was not the only thing the fellowship had discovered. The fellowship had quickly realized the manner of Harry and Legolas's relationship when the two had held hands most of the journey. It didn't bother anyone except for Boromir, who claimed it was unnatural and became even more hateful of the Black Wizard.

Harry and Legolas sat a little ways away from the group, their knees touching and their hands clasped together. Harry was blushing, again, but Legolas merely chuckled and ran a hand through the wizard's raven locks. "You're beautiful, _melleth nin." _

Harry's cheeks darkened, and he muttered, "Not like you, though. You're gorgeous."

Legolas smiled joyfully at the compliment, and brought his head down to give a soft kiss to Harry's cheek. "Thank you, but I think you are the most precious and lovely thing in all of Arda and Valinor, _melleth nin."_

They were silent for several minutes, just enjoying each other's company, when Harry piped up with a question. "Legolas, what is that elvish word you call me? What does it mean?"

"Which one? _melleth nin _or _möre istari?" _

"Both. I know _istari _means wizard, but I do not understand the rest."

"Well, _möre istari _means 'black wizard.' It is a title quite like Gandalf's. He is the Grey Wizard. The other is something I hope only I get to call you. _Melleth nin _means 'my love' in elvish."

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth opened in astonishment. "You've been… You feel that…love?" He didn't even know how to respond, other than with the happiness that raced through his chest and fed his pounding heart. "Legolas, I do not know what to say. I am so happy." A tear slid down Harry's cheek.

Legolas caught it and wiped it away with his thumb. "You need not tell me anything now, _melleth nin. _Just know that I will love you to the end of days. You are my soulmate, my everything. How could I not love one so noble and courageous as you? Fighting giant snakes and evil lords while you were still a child. You are a truly brave man.

The emerald eyed wizard leaned his head on Legolas's shoulder and they both looked up to the sky. It was a cloudless, beautiful day.

Suddenly, a whisp of something began coming towards them in the air. Legolas and Harry both stood up, watching the strange cloud-like formation. Finally, Harry could make out bird like shapes in the cloud.

The elf whipped around and shouted, "Crebain from Dunland! Quickly, hide!"

The fellowship sprung into action, throwing water on the fire and scrambling to find cover. Finally, Frodo and Harry were the only two left out in the open. There was nowhere to hide. Harry leaned down and said, "Don't move and be silent, Frodo." The wizard closed his eyes and slammed his staff into the ground. Instantly, in the eyes of the rest of the fellowship, they were invisible.

After the birds passed out of sight, the group started to emerge from their hiding spots. Legolas called out, "Harry, where are you?"

He heard a chuckle and a voice said, "Right here, Legolas."

Harry and Frodo appeared out of thin air next to Legolas. Aragorn, Gandalf and Legolas were gladdened by the sight, but the rest of the fellowship was wary. Who was this mysterious wizard that had powers that even Gandalf could not use?

Boromir spat out, "That's vile trickery, witchcraft like that. Who are you anyway? You came from somewhere far off spinning a made up tale about the Gods sending you. I don't trust you."

Harry was taken aback, and responded, "I mean none of you harm. I am from somewhere far away, so far that none of you would recognize the name of it. I merely wish for the ring bearer to fulfill his quest."

Sam spoke next, "And how do we know that you will not try to take the ring from Mr. Frodo?"

The dark haired wizard straightened, hurt, and his magic started whipping around him. "Samwise Gamgee, I am on your side. The Ring holds nothing for me, and I have long since been able to resist the call of evil such as it is."

Gandalf finally stepped in. "I trust Master Potter. He is an ally, not an enemy. You would do well to keep your paranoid thoughts away from your mouths! Now, we make for the Pass of Caradhras. Saruman the White's spies are watching this route too closely."

…..

The mountaintops were bitter cold and piled high with snowdrifts. Harry, Legolas, Aragorn, and Gandalf, contrarily, were toasty warm from the green eyed wizard's warming charms. The rest of the fellowship was not so lucky. Boromir, the hobbits, and Gimli had refused Harry's offer of warming them up and so were stuck shivering in the snow.

Frodo stumbled as he hit a patch of snow that was deeper than he was tall, and the ring flew from his neck. Boromir lifted it out of the snow and held it in his palm, saying, "It is a strange fate we should suffer so much fear and doubt…over so small a thing. Such a little thing.*"

Harry sent a bolt of red light from his staff to hit Boromir. Instantly, he froze, unable to move a muscle. Harry then waved his staff and levitated the ring back to Frodo's hand, who was staring frightfully at the wizard. He undid the petrification on Boromir, who rounded on him, "How dare you use that rotten witchcraft on me? Your powers are poison."

Harry barely held his temper in check. The hobbits, Gimli and Boromir had not grown to trust him since their outburst with the spies of Saruman, and Boromir especially lashed out whenever Harry used his magic. Straightening his shoulders, he turned away from Boromir and started moving forward again.

The next few hours were silent and tense, so when a murderous voice whispered words of power from the top of the mountain, everyone heard it. "Saruman!" Gandalf cried. "He is trying to bring down the mountain!"

Aragorn shouted, "Quickly, take cover under the overhang!" The fellowship rushed to get beneath the rocky ledge, but Frodo was clipped by a falling stone and tumbled off the edge. Everyone watched in horror as the little hobbit fell out of their sights.

Harry bellowed, "_Accio_ Frodo." The hobbit came flying back up to them, and landed next to Harry. Frodo scrambled to get back on his feet, and then backed away from Harry. "You did not put a spell on me, did you?"

Harry sighed, "Only the one to bring you back to us, Master Hobbit."

Boromir snarled, "Liar! You probably sent that rock to knock him over the cliff in the first place. We all know you can move objects at will. It would be no trouble for you to do something like that, what with your crooked tongue and flashy tricks."

Harry looked around and saw distrust and fear in the eyes of Frodo. Legolas grew angry, "Do not accuse him of something so foul! Harry would never…" Harry held up his hand to interrupt Legolas.

His eyes dimmed, and his countenance spoke of sadness and betrayal. He whispered in a trembling voice which carried even through the cruel winds, "I see that I can do no more to assure you of my good will. Any deed I accomplish will be an act of trickery and deception to your eyes, Master Hobbits, Master Gimli, Lord Boromir." He turned to Legolas, and bid the elf to lean down so he could whisper in the pointed ear. "Legolas, forgive me. We will meet again. I love you." He handed the elf a pendant he conjured. It was a phoenix carved out of a stone the same color as Harry's eyes. The black wizard turned to face Aragorn, Gandalf and Legolas one last time. "If you need me, call for me. I will come."

With that he spun on his heel and disappeared with a loud crack, Legolas's cry of anguish ringing in his ears as he apparated away. He thought of no particular destination, only a place where his powers were needed.

….

Harry appeared in a darkly lit room. It was sparsely furnished, only a dresser and mirror on one side of the room in addition to the bed. The room was occupied by three people, one injured man in the bed and an armored warrior and delicate maiden at his side. It was apparent that the injured man was heavily wounded, and the two people by his side were his loved ones.

The wizard cleared his throat, making the two jump. The armored man drew his sword. "Who are you? What business do you have here?"

Harry leaned on his staff, and said, "I am Harry Potter, known to some as the Black Wizard. I came because I was needed. Now, where am I and who are you?"

The maiden caught onto his meaning, and asked, "You came because you were needed? Can you help our cousin, Théodred? Please, he is dying."

The warrior sighed, "Eowyn, sister, we cannot trust this stranger. How do you not know he will hurt Theodred worse?"

The maiden grabbed the man's arm, and whispered, "What else can we do? Without a miracle, our dear cousin will be dead by morning."

The man finally conceded. "I am Éomer, and this is my sister Éowyn. You are in Edoras, the capital of Rohan. My cousin Théodred, the king's son, was badly wounded in an ambush by orcs bearing the white hand of Saruman. Please, if you can, help him." Once again, the evil power of Saruman was at play. Harry was starting to get very fed up with the White Wizard's interference and terrorizing.

Harry paused in his thoughts and questioned the siblings, "If this is the King's son, then where is the King? Shouldn't he be here?"

Éomer looked away. "The King no longer recognizes our faces. His will has been taken from him by Saruman the White and his spy, the esteemed advisor Grima Wormtongue."

The wizard frowned. "Ok, well first things first. Please show me his wounds."

Éomer gently pulled back the sheets that rested over Théodred's body. A nasty gash in the man's side was oozing greenish pus and blood. He had multiple puncture wounds, as if from arrows. A blow to the head had split open the skin on his skull. Harry raised his staff and willed his power to heal the man of his wounds, purge him of poison, and restore his strength. The man was far gone into the death realm, and so Harry remained motionless for hours into the night, rejuvenating and bringing the near dead man back to life. Finally, around dawn, exhausted but satisfied, he finished.

Théodred's eyes fluttered open, and he was met with the joyful faces of his cousins peering down at him from either side of his former death bed. "Éomer, Éowyn," he murmured.

Éomer let out a hearty laugh, "How good it is to see your eyes, cousin. We almost lost you to the halls of your forefathers."

Éowyn smiled and turned to Harry, who had stepped back to let the relatives reunite. "This man here is the black wizard, Harry Potter. He appeared to us in the night, and healed you of your fatal wounds, Théodred."

Theodred sat up in the bed and bowed as best he could in his still semi weakened state, fist over his heart. "Then I owe my life to you, Master Potter. Thank you."

It was a big difference from the scorn and distrust sent his way from select members of the fellowship. It was heartwarming, and Harry smiled. "Think nothing of it, Prince."

….

After the joyous events of the night, the cousins sat around and planned for what the repercussions might be for Théodred's survival. It seemed that the traitorous advisor, Grima, had been trying to kill off the royal cousins, and had been the one to order Théodred's company to the ambush. After much consideration, Harry offered to fake Théodred's death. "I can create a golem that looks like Théodred, and no one will be the wiser. Théodred can be put under a charm to change his appearance until we can remove Saruman's presence from these halls."

The cousins agreed, and Harry changed Theodred's hair color to match his, and made the prince's eyes an emerald green. They would pretend to be brothers coming from a village far into the Horselands and searching for employment as soldiers.

"My lord Éomer, my lady Éowyn, meet my brother, Theodore Potter, master swordsman from the village of Halsworth."

The cousins grinned at the prince's transformation. Éomer remarked, "Why Théodred, you might be more successful in your womanly conquests in this form. I must say that this new look is markedly better looking than your usual one."

The newly dubbed Theodore smacked his cousin playfully on the arm. "Well then, I might have to ask Master Potter to make it permanent!"

…

Harry looked at the crudely built helmet in the corner of the room. The royal cousins were sitting on the bed together, whispering and enjoying the few moments of peace. He was reminded of yesterday, when Legolas and he had sat and talked on the rock while the fellowship rested. He missed Legolas fiercely.

The helmet had a white hand drawn in paint on the visor. It was the mark of Saruman. Harry detested traitors more than anything else in the world. Peter Pettigrew had died slowly when Harry found him in one of Voldemort's bases. This Grima Wormtongue and the White Wizard, Saruman, were even worse than Pettigrew. They traded their secrets and allegiance to the Dark Lord Sauron in return for power. At least Pettigrew admitted he was just a scared coward, and joined because he didn't want to die.

Harry resolved to himself that until the time came for the Black Wizard to reunite with the fellowship, he would do his best to destroy Saruman's power and cast out the traitors like Grima that flocked to him.

Harry was, after all, the envoy sent by the Valar to bring power to the light side.

And right now, he was powerful, and he was angry.

**End of Chapter 5:**

*** Quotes from the movies for LOTR**

**Please Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks for the reviews! Several of them made me laugh… (No, sorry, I can't marry you haha Firerosemon)**

**Anyway, we return to the situation in the Pass of Caradhras. What will happen to the fellowship now? And how will Harry get rid of Saruman's evil influence in Rohan? Read the chapter to find out! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP or LOTR, the characters involved or the plot lines written for them. **

**Chapter 6: Without Honor, and We've Already Saved the Prince, Let's Save the King!**

The loud crack of Harry's departure was the only sound for several minutes. Legolas was motionless, unblinking as he stared at the spot where Harry disappeared from as if maybe he was just invisible again and playing a trick on the group. Aragorn put a hand on Legolas's shoulder, still in shock at the abruptness of Harry's leaving but aware enough to try and comfort the distraught elf.

Gandalf, however, was not shocked or saddened. He had skipped right past those emotions and was instead furious, and disappointed.

"Frodo Baggins, I am ashamed of your behavior. How many times has Master Potter saved your life? And no thanks? Not a lick of gratitude. Just a distrustful accusation and scorn for the very powers that saved your life twice now! Bilbo raised you better than that," Gandalf thundered. At those words, Frodo's previously obstinate face fell, and he whispered, "I… I'm sorry, Gandalf. It's just, I thought he was a spy for the dark lord. He is powerful, strong enough to take the ring whenever he wanted. I was afraid of him."

The hobbit lowered his head contritely, and stared at his shivering hands. He hadn't realized how cruel he had been to the wizard until he saw the look on Harry's face as he left. The young wizard looked weary and betrayed, but it wasn't only because of Frodo and the others' distrust that he wore that face. Harry had been rejected before, again and again, and the look he gave was of one who was resigned to and expecting it. Harry's green eyes had turned dark with grief over the last several weeks as over half of the fellowship questioned his loyalty and allegiance. The hobbit glanced at Legolas, who was hunched over and hyperventilating as Aragorn comforted him.

Had he really been so blind in his suspicion to doubt Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas's faith in the wizard? Had be really driven Harry to the point where he had been forced to separate from his soulmate?

Gandalf snarled, "It is not me who you should be apologizing to, Mr. Baggins. The Black Wizard has been nothing but courteous and helpful towards you. He willingly chose to risk his life to protect this fellowship when the Valar asked him to, and you treated him with the utmost disrespect. The same goes for you other hobbits. Shame on you." Leaving the hobbits to sit on their awful behavior, he rounded on Boromir, who sniffed in distaste.

"Good riddance," Boromir sneered.

Legolas, who still had not moved until then, leapt up and punched the Gondorian hard in the face. Boromir flew back, clutching his broken nose. "I will kill you if you speak ill of him again, ally or not."

Aragorn looked over at Boromir and Gimli, who had remained silent so far, and said, "You have acted without honor, Master Dwarf, Lord Boromir. You do not deserve the mantles of leadership that you carry."

Gimli nodded his head grimly. "Aye, I have acted shamefully towards the lad. If I see him again, I will ask for his forgiveness." At least the dwarf was reasonable and recognized his wrongdoings. He had not been very vocal about Harry's use of magic, but he had not trusted the wizard either. The dwarf had been unnerved by Harry's youth and strength, and had stayed far away.

Aragorn glanced once more time at Boromir, who was now frowning in contemplation, before he walked away from them and joined Gandalf and Legolas. "What shall we do now, Gandalf?"

Gandalf sighed. "We have no choice but to brave the long dark of Moria. I pray that we might all survive this, especially with the situation as it is. There is an evil there, in the mines." The Grey Wizard met Legolas's pained eyes. "Harry will return to us, Legolas. Do not despair." The elf clutched the emerald phoenix Harry had given him to his chest, his heart heavy and his expression desolate.

The three started hiking back down the mountain, shoulder to shoulder with straightened backs. To the remorseful hobbits and dwarf, it was a clear message. They had messed up, bad, and had better be prepared to regain their honor. Right now, they had little to be proud of.

Boromir was confused. His father, Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor, had raised him to believe wizards were untrustworthy and that their magic played tricks on your mind and heart. Boromir knew that in the last several decades, Lord Denethor had heard occasional reports of Gandalf traveling with an unnamed ranger who was rumored to be the lost heir to Gondor's throne. The Lord Steward had made it a point to inform his son of the dastardous plot by the wizards to usurp the throne of Gondor from Boromir's father. But, for all his biting retorts and sneering faces, Boromir could find no lie in Gandalf's scolding of the hobbit. It was true that the wizard never used his magic to harm his allies, and had protected them from being discovered many times on the journey. Maybe he had judged the wizard wrongly? Maybe his father had been wrong to set him so against magic wielders?

Boromir could not find it in himself to voice his regrets aloud, but perhaps one day he would be able to apologize to Harry. Right now, he was still working through his misdeeds.

Picking up the tattered shreds of his dignity, Boromir got up and followed after the rest of the group, gingerly holding his crooked nose.

…

By the time the fellowship had actually been able to enter the mines of Moria, they had already fought a giant squid-like monster, and had spent most of the night attempting to guess the correct password for the gateway in. Therefore, when the group discovered the piles of dwarf bodies littering the caves, it was like adding salt to an open wound. It sucked, immensely.

Gimli was distraught when they found the corpses, and cried, "Oh dear cousin! Balin! I pray you are still alive."

Gandalf, who was still quite upset with the dwarf, shushed him. "Quiet, Gimli. We do not want to attract any unwelcome guests."

Gandalf lit the tip of his staff with a dim light and beckoned the group to follow him. "It is five days through the mines, if we don't lose ourselves in the maze of caves."

…..

Back in Edoras, Harry and the disguised Théodred were having a grand time pranking Grima Wormtongue, esteemed Lord Advisor to the King and all around Traitor and Spy of Saruman the White. In the past three days since they had marched into Edoras and been inducted into Rohan's Riders, they had glued Grima's boots to the floor while he was sleeping, put red dye in his soap so he looked like a lobster, and shrunken all of his clothes to infant size. Wormtongue had no idea who was playing the tricks on him, and the duo found it very entertaining to watch as the traitor's minions scurried around, trying to find the culprits.

Consequently, the red-skinned advisor was particularly grouchy, and Harry wondered briefly what the man's reaction would be to the prank set up for later that day. Hmm, maybe he should charm the pranked hair shampoo to a different color than purple. It might clash with the traitor's red skin. Oh well.

Theodred found it both refreshing and enlightening to be able to meet and talk with the people of Rohan without the pomp and circus that his royal station demanded. They had quickly integrated themselves into the community of soldiers, drinking ale at the pub after dinner and training with their company in the morning. Harry especially loved the horse training, a vital part of being a Rider. Although it wasn't as fast as his Firebolt, riding a galloping horse was adrenaline filled and exciting.

Both Harry and Théodred had a basic sword attached to their hips, and Harry also carried a longbow and quiver on his back. The two dark haired, green eyed men were dressed as simple folk, and were friendly to everyone. To most people's eyes, they were exactly what they claimed to be: brothers looking to become soldiers of the King. Only the King's niece and nephew had any idea that it was in fact the Black Wizard and their Prince.

The four of them had met up every night to discuss how Harry was going to free King Théoden from Saruman's grasp. Three nights after Harry had healed Théodred of his fatal wounds, they met to plan their attack. According to Éomer and Éowyn, Théoden had aged far more rapidly than normal and his motor skills had diminished until he could barely hold a quill in only a few months. Now, he looked on the verge of death, white hair and a pasty, sunken face that held no expression. He was a shadow of his former self, and Grima's presence only added to it. The traitor spent his whole day beside the King, whispering poisonous words into his ears.

Harry knew that a possession from a place so far away like the tower of Isengard would require a lot of focus and probably a magical aide, so he asked if Théoden had received anything new recently, something that he would carry with him constantly. Immediately Éowyn gasped, "The King's scepter. It was sent to him as a gift from the White Wizard not even a year ago."

The Black Wizard grinned. "Wonderful. I know exactly what to do. At noon tomorrow, let's meet in the entryway before the throne room. I'm sure you would like to see this."

The three cousins smiles grew feral. "With pleasure," Théodred purred.

…

Far away, Saruman shivered as a chill ran through him. He could feel it. Something was going to happen to him, something that would put an enormous dent in his and Lord Sauron's plans.

He hurried to the Palantir, his seeing stone. For some reason it was cloudy, unclear to his eyes. The only thing he could make out was a set of glowing green eyes, glaring at him like they could see through his soul.

He shivered again.

….

As a bell sounded out twelve times from the watchtower on the edge of the city, Harry, Théodred, Éomer, and Éowyn met in front of the doors to the throne room.

Éowyn whispered, "Both the King and Grima are in there, along with Grima's followers and the normal guards. How will we get past them?"

Harry smiled wickedly, "Leave it to me."

He whipped out his staff seemingly out of nowhere (he had it shrunken in his pocket), and waved it in a circle. Three gasps rang out as the clothes each of them was wearing were transformed into outfits fit for the lords and lady they were.

A circlet rested on Théodred's brow, emphasizing his princely image. His original looks had been returned, and he was dressed in golden armor detailed with rearing stallions covered in a red and green velvet tunic. His cape was a deep crimson, edged in a gold embroidery of stampeding horses.

Éowyn looked beautiful, clad in a pure white gown that was form fitting to her waist, where a wide golden belt rested. The skirt flowed out around her feet, and her hair was twisted and braided into an intricate design. She looked angelic.

Her brother, Éomer, was dressed much like his cousin, though instead of golden armor, he wore silver. He also had a deep emerald cape instead, with silver horse embellishments.

Harry chose to dress himself in all black, befitting of the name bestowed upon him by the elves, _Möre Istari_. He had a black velvet cape that had trails of silver leaves running down the back, and a black dragon hide vest and pants. His shirt was snug and made of silk, with sheer, billowing sleeves. He looked ethereal, and positively lethal.

Together, the four made quite a breathtaking image.

Harry nodded to the royal cousins, and thrusted his staff at the throne room's doors. They exploded inwards with a mighty boom. The young wizard entered first, and when he saw the guards start to gather themselves and charge, lazily spun his emerald tipped staff in his right hand. Immediately, everyone but the four were frozen in place. Harry looked forward, and met the shocked gaze of Grima Wormtongue. He pointed his staff at the snake, and unfroze him.

The black tongued man spewed, "Vile sorcerer, who are you to barge into these halls?"

Harry smiled benevolently, and said, "I am Harry Potter, the Black Wizard, here for your end, Grima Wormtongue, traitor and spy for the White Wizard, Saruman. Now silent, while I release the King from his cage." He bound the man with ropes to the nearest pillar with a wave of his staff.

The wizard's face grew solemn, and a powerful wind started swirling around him, emerald lights dancing around him in the air. Harry raised his staff, and commanded, "Saruman, begone from this man. You cannot hope to match me."

The King, who clutched the scepter in his lap tighter, laughed hoarsely. "Foolish boy, no-named magician, do not try me. I am leagues ahead of you. Rohan is mine!"

Harry smirked, "I beg to differ." With that, he sent a bolt of shimmering green light at the King and his scepter. The evil rod shattered into pieces, and the hall was filled with Saruman's pained screams as the White Wizard was cast from Théoden's mind and thrown back to his tower in Isengard. Finally, they faded away and everyone looked expectantly at the King. His recovery was instantaneous. He seemed to be an entirely different person than the frail old man who rested in the throne not a minute before. Golden hair streaked with gray, a warrior's build, and wise blue eyes. The King had returned.

Harry welcomed him back. "Long have you been in shadow, or so your dear kin has told me, Théoden, King of Rohan. Rejoice, you are whole again."

The King blinked at Harry, and then said, "And who do I have to thank for my release from the cruel hands of Saruman and this traitor, Grima Wormtongue?" He sent a nasty glare towards the terrified man bound to the pillar.

Éowyn spoke next, "My lord, this is Harry Potter, the Black Wizard. He rescued you from your confinement within your mind, in addition to much more."

Théoden bowed. "You have my gratitude, Lord Potter. Now please tell me, where is my son? Where is Prince Théodred?"

Grima's mouth had dropped open in horror, and he begged, "I meant no harm in sending his company out. I am your loyal servant, my lord, my King. Prince Théodred's passing was merely a great tragedy, a fact of life. He failed in his duty as a captain, and died for it. Please, my lord."

Éomer snarled, "Foul pig! I wish to remove that black tongue from your mouth, oath breaker!"

Théoden's face reflected his grief and his anger. He strode forward, grasping his sword and unsheathing it. "You kinslayer, traitor of the Horselands. Your life is forfeit! You not only would have me bound and imprisoned, but you would send my son to his death?"

Harry stepped in front of the King as he was about to strike Wormtongue. "Enough blood has been spilled. He is not worthy of the blade of a king."

A tear slid down the King's face as he turned away from the wizard. "My son is dead. Théodred, my son, he is gone." He spoke the words as if confirming it to himself. Finally, Théodred could take it no longer.

The prince, who was partially hidden behind Éomer, stepped forward. "I am here, father. Do not despair. Harry saved me as well. I was dying of fatal wounds when he appeared to Éomer and Éowyn. He took me away from my death bed. We owe much to him, the Black Wizard."

Théoden rushed forward and grabbed his son in a tight embrace. The father and son clung to each other for several moments before they both stepped back. "I am glad to see you healthy again, Father."

The King of Rohan faced Harry once again, who was leaning on his staff with a pleased look on his face. The entire hall was still full of frozen guards and traitors. Ahh, how fun.

Théoden spoke fervently, "Black Wizard, Lord Potter, Rohan is in your debt. We offer our allegiance to you in return. Without your help, I would have lost both my son and this country to evil."

Harry shook his head, "I do not need your allegiance, King. I did it only because it is my purpose and my duty to help those in need in this dark time."

"Then you are a great man indeed, Lord Potter. A great wizard."

...

High in the tower of Isengard, Saruman peered over a large black stone. "My Lord Sauron, there was a complication in Rohan. A wizard has appeared, a young man who goes by the name of Harry Potter, the Black Wizard. He rid Théoden of my possession and cast out my informants within Edoras."

A deep, malicious voice answered. "Then destroy him. He can not get in the way."

Saruman smiled evilly. "Yes, my lord."

**End of Chapter 6:**

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	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks everyone for the reviews! **

**In this new chapter, will Gandalf and the fellowship stand alone against the demons of Moria, or will Harry rush to help them? In Rohan, what course of action does Theoden take against the growing power of Mordor and Isengard?**

**Read below to find out!**

**Chapter 7: Those Are Some Sharp Teeth you Have, Mr. Balrog, Sir.**

The first four days in Moria were uneventful for the fellowship. Legolas refused to talk to anyone but Gandalf and Aragorn, his anger at the rest of the group palpable. Aragorn and Gandalf did interact with the others, but sparsely as they were still fuming at the treatment of the second wizard in the group.

Legolas could barely sleep the times when they stopped to rest. His heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest and stomped on. When elves found their soulmates, they rarely separated more than a short distance away, especially in the first several years of their relationship. A young soulmate bond is especially fragile, and for elves, a torn bond could cause the death of both of the bonded. Most times when soul mates needed to leave each other, it was a mutually decided decision and many years into their bonding. In the case of Legolas and Harry's separation, the two were forced apart only months after they met because of the actions of people around them. Consequently, the soulmate bond they shared was stretched thin, and pulled hard at the two to reunite as quickly as possible before something irreparable occurred.

The elf wondered if Harry could feel the bond as strongly as he could. Even so far away, wherever Harry had vanished to, Legolas could catch glimpses of Harry and the wizard's stronger emotions through their connection. The first night Harry had left, Legolas had felt strong determination and compassion from Harry's side of the bond. Fortunately, Legolas never felt any pain from his bonded, so he stayed sane in the realization that Harry was in fact healthy and alive somewhere.

A sudden cry from Gimli shook the elf from his thoughts, and he watched as the dwarf ran to a partially opened doorway. The rest of the fellowship followed, and were greeted by the sight of Gimli sobbing over a stone tomb, with the words "_Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria_" engraved on the cover. Legolas, although still infuriated by the dwarf, rested a hand on Gimli's shoulder in comfort. Angry or not, he wouldn't let Gimli grieve over his dead cousin alone.

Gandalf picked up a dusty, bloodstained tome from a nearby skeleton. He read, ""They have taken the bridge…and the second hall. We have barred the gates…but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes.*" Pippin, who was standing close to Gandalf, backs away in fright. "Drums...drums…in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark.*"

Pippin stumbles back slightly and sees the corpse of a dwarven warrior sitting by a stone well with an arrow in its chest.

"We cannot get out…" A single scrawled line fades out at the bottom of the page. Gandalf looks up in the tense silence."They are coming!*"

Pippin had turned towards the skeleton resting on the edge of the stone well. Curiously, he poked the arrow sticking out of the dwarf. The corpse's skull fell off and tumbled down the well, crashing and banging as it fell through the long shaft.

The fellowship sucked in a long breath, listening anxiously for any noises. When none came, Gandalf spat out, "Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!*"

The hobbit began to shrink in on himself, but froze when he heard a boom. Boom. Boom. Boomboomboomboomboom.

The fellowship sprang into action. Aragorn and Boromir leapt to bar the doors with spears and long axes. Boromir stuck his head out of the door before it closed, and said with slight hysteria, "They have a cave troll!" Gandalf ushered the hobbits behind him, and they unsheathed their swords, trembling nervously as they prepared themselves for their first real battle.

Legolas reached into his shirt and pulled out the phoenix pendant Harry had given him. It was tied around the elf's neck with a ribbon, resting against Legolas's heart. He kissed it for good luck, and carefully tucked it back into his clothing. It was always warm, and the elven prince fully believed it had magical properties given to it from Harry.

He closed his eyes and whispered softly, "_Le melon, _Harry" just before the doors crashed down and the battle begun.

He released a volley of arrows, taking down row after row of charging orcs before the enemy reached him. Soon it was too crowded and he placed his bow on his back, drawing twin long daggers from their sheathes and twirling gracefully through the battle, cutting and slashing.

One orc was particularly big, and ran straight at Legolas, cackling madly. The elf calmly sidestepped the orc's lunge and plunged his dagger into the base of the orc's skull, in between the armor on the creature's back and the helmet. The deadly blow resulted in a choked scream as the orc keeled over dead.

Aragorn and Boromir were fighting close by Gandalf, hacking and slicing through hordes of the orcs. They had formed a loose semi circle around the hobbits in an attempt to protect them, but still every once in a while an orc would slip through and the hobbits would have to take them down. They were doing surprisingly well, especially Sam, who wielded one of his frying pans in each hand.

Gimli was ferocious with his axe, shouting war cries and declaring his vengeance on the orcs who killed his cousin, Balin. The dwarf declared, "There is still one dwarf in Moria who still draws breath. Come at me, scum! I'll kill every one of you!"

Somehow, Frodo was separated from the group, and found himself at the mercy of an enraged cave troll. Shuddering in fear, the hobbit hid around a pillar, trying to make himself smaller, but the troll had smelled his prey. Hefting a spear, the creature charged Frodo, who managed to dive out of the way.

Dimly, Frodo could hear Aragorn screaming to "Take it down!" Two arrows slammed into the cave troll, and Gimli's axe imbedded itself in the creature's back. Still, the cave troll plundered after Frodo, and finally the hobbit had nowhere to escape. The spear struck Frodo hard, and he dropped to the ground.

After killing the troll and checking on Frodo, the fellowship began their sprint through Moria. Like thousands of ferocious spiders, orcs poured out of every crevice, encircling the group and cutting off their escape route. Nervously, the fellowship glanced around. As far as they could see in the dim light, there were orcs covering every surface of the dwarven city.

The circle started to shrink in, and the fellowship braced themselves for a long and bloody battle. However, all of a sudden a different booming noise was made in the deep. The orcs shrieked, and immediately, they began crawling back into the cracks in the stone. Whatever the deep sound that resounded throughout the cavern was, it scared the orcs badly.

A glowing light appeared at one of the huge archways a while back in the dwarven city. Slowly, with great pounding steps, a shadowed beast wreathed in flames emerged from the caves. Great curved horns rested on the creature's head, and it breathed fire and radiated heat out of its mouth. Gandalf gasped, and said, "If my eyes don't deceive me, that is a Balrog."

Legolas cried, "_Ai! _A demon has appeared. We must run!"

The fellowship turned tail and sprinted away from the horrifying beast. As they ran, Legolas prayed that Harry was safe, and thanked the Valar that his soulmate was not facing this terrible monster.

…..

Harry had spent the day in the great hall with King Théoden, Prince Théodred, Lord Éomer and Lady Éowyn. The five people had gathered in a semi circle of chairs around a roaring fire to decide Rohan's course of action in light of Saruman's ploy to conquer the Horselands.

Théoden remarked, "From what I understand, orcs roam throughout the lands, pillaging villages and burning down crops. What has been done to combat this?"

Éomer glowered, "My lord, we have been blocked from taking any true action against Saruman's forces due to Grima Wormtongue's meddling." Théoden scowled, muttering under his breath about traitorous, black-tongued worms.

Harry decided to put his thoughts in. "King Théoden, this is not my first war. Although I seem young, I have lived through the complete and utter destruction of my home world. There are many times that I wish that I could have protected them from the hands of evil. Brought them somewhere safe." He paused and closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. The dying screams of his dear friends still rang in his ears, and the blood of the innocent people he failed to protect seemed to stain his hands in his mind's eye. A calloused hand on his shoulder, courtesy of Théodred, awoke him from his memories. He continued, staring straight into Théoden's eyes.

"I think that for your country too it's best that the people are kept safe. Crops can be resown and villages rebuilt. Protect the heart of the Horselands, your people. Do you have a stronghold, a safe place for them while the soldiers fight against Saruman's armies?"

The wizard's voice had been pained when he talked of his former world. The four royals had seen the terrible sadness and guilt that plagued the young man when he had been stuck in the memories of his former home. For this reason, among others, Théoden sat pensively for several minutes. Could he properly defend his people if they stayed in Edoras?

He nodded decisively. "Yes, you make a good point, Lord Potter. We will move everyone to Helms Deep." Théoden turned to Théodred and Éomer. "Prepare Edoras for evacuation within three days. Send riders out to the villages. Round up the soldiers and start them on orc patrols. Yes… we will make our stand."

The wizard nodded in agreement, and breathed out a sigh of relief. All of a sudden, he sprang up and gave a hoarse cry, eyes glazed. During his time away from his soulmate, he had kept tabs on Legolas's health and the fellowship's perilous situation through the phoenix pendant that was resting around the elf's throat. Now, Legolas and the fellowship were in big trouble. They were currently being chased through Moria by an army of orcs… wait, no. The orcs were running away.

Visions of fire, smoke and screaming filled Harry's head as he continued to monitor the fellowship. An ancient demon had crawled up from deep in the mine, spouting flames and crashing through the thick rock as it chased the group. Harry shuddered. The demon reeked of evil and scorched brimstone. The feeling he got as he examined the creature more closely was almost like a dementor in the sensation of hopelessness, except instead of freezing, this demon was burning hot, scalding.

Harry snapped out of his vision to find all four royals staring at him in concern. Éowyn spoke up, asking worriedly, "Master Wizard, are you alright?"

The Black Wizard shook his head, saying, "I must go. The fellowship needs my help. They are being chased through the mines of Moria by a demon of fire." The four gasped, and Théoden whispered, "A Balrog, a demon of old."

Harry looked sharply at him. "It's called a Balrog? What do you know about it?"

The King responded shakily, "Only that it is fearsomely strong and that not with an army of men could you destroy it. Long has its kind haunted the legends of this world."

The wizard nodded in thanks. "I will see you all soon, but I must go now to Moria. My soulmate is there, and I could not leave him to face this terror alone. Goodbye, all."

Without waiting for the four royals to say their goodbyes he spun on his heel and apparated with a crack to Moria, using the phoenix pendant as a homing device. He appeared next to the group, who was watching Gandalf face off against a creature of shadow and fire on a narrow bridge.

Legolas looked at him in shock before latching on to him worriedly. "Harry, you must leave! A Balrog has come, and we can not win against it. Please, you must be safe. Flee, _melleth nin!"_

The group watched as the grey wizard collapsed the bridge, sending the demon down into the abyss. However, the Balrog was able to drag Gandalf down as well, using a whip made of flame to wrap around the elder wizard's ankle and pull. The grey wizard hung onto the edge of the broken bridge with all his strength, but he was losing his grip.

Harry smiled gently, "Legolas, I am glad to see you again. It has been hard being away from you. Now, I must help Gandalf. He cannot win this fight alone. I will return, as always, dear one." He pulled himself away from the worried elf and nodded to Aragorn before sprinting to Gandalf. Legolas was frozen. His feet felt like they weighed a whole ton, and he couldn't move his legs. Harry must have placed a spell onto him to keep the elf from running after the wizard.

Consequently, Legolas and the fellowship could only watch in horror as the Gandalf was dragged into the dark and Harry took a running leap off the edge of the collapsing bridge, gripping tightly onto his staff, a look of sheer determination on his face as he plummeted down.

Legolas screamed, "Harry! NO!"

**End of Chapter 7:**

*** Quotes from the LOTR movies**

**Please review! I love hearing your comments and suggestions!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for the long wait! I took the liberty of fixing the goblin/orc mixup in the last chapter...Thanks for pointing that out! :). I also edited a couple of minor things to help with the flow of the story and some descriptions. You may wish to re-read the chapter, but nothing major was changed so it's not necessary! Here's the next chapter… Enjoy! Please review! I welcome constructive criticism and comments!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own HP or LOTR. Any quotes I used from the movie screenplays were designated with an asterisk.**

…**.**

Chapter 8: The Golden Lady and the Final Split

...

Time seemed to slow as Harry fell. Clenching his staff, he called upon his power and sped up his descent until he reached Gandalf. The old wizard was holding his gnarled staff in one hand and a long sword in the other. He looked over at the younger wizard and nodded in determination.

One way or another, they would defeat the Balrog.

The two wizards turned their attention back to the demon and shared a grim smile as the Balrog screamed it's rage. It was time to fight.

…..

Days later, the mourning, broken group arrived in the forests of Lothlorien. Even Gimli's claims of the supposed evil Witch Queen that ruled the forests barely invoked a response from anyone. Legolas was numb, too far gone into worry and grief to be aware of the world around him.

He could feel Harry dimly in the back of his mind, but he could not tell if his mate was hurt, distressed, or in need of help. He couldn't even tell if the opposite were true. The bond was still there, but it was muted, and silent.

Before he knew it, Legolas and the others were surrounded by a group of tense elves. Legolas merely blinked. His thoughts were hazy. How could he focus on anything else but Harry's safety right now?

He remembered nothing of the discussion that took place next between Aragorn and Haldir, the Marchwarden who guarded Lothlorien's borders. He never saw the looks of sorrow the guard elves gave him when Aragorn finally explained the reason for Legolas's silence. He also barely registered the blindfold that covered his eyes for the duration of the trek to the elven city.

His first real moment of awareness came when they stood in front of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. The Golden haired Elf Queen had looked on him in pity, and murmured, "Do not lose hope, Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. He will return to you."

His eyes had snapped completely open, and he blurted, "Have you seen it, Lady Galadriel? Does he truly live?"

The Elf Lady smiled serenely, and said, "The Valar sent me a message to pass on. They did not wish for their champion's mate to wither away in despair. Wait for him."

For the first time in a long while, Legolas smiled, albeit only a little. He would always wait for Harry, even if he had to wait forever.

…

The fellowship had been sent on their way with gifts of elven cloaks and other trinkets. Gimli's request of a hair from Galadriel's head had amused most of them, especially considering his comments on the "Evil Witch Queen" that day they were led into the city. For Aragorn, the elves had stated that they could give no gift better than the Evenstar necklace from Arwen that hung around the ranger's throat. Legolas had refused any gift other than the cloak, stating that he had already received a most precious gift… the knowledge that Harry would come back to him.

Legolas, mostly recovered from his mind-numbing depression, had noticed that Frodo had a certain determination and aura about him. Perhaps the loss of the two wizards had forced him to realize the severity of their mission. Personally, he suspected part of it had to do with Frodo's midnight excursion to meet with Lady Galadriel. Legolas had followed the hobbit and stayed hidden as the elven lady offered to let Frodo look into the mirror. Whatever the hobbit had seen, it had changed him, and brought out new strength in the small creature.

Now, what was left of the fellowship was gliding down a wide river in elven canoes. Legolas paused his steady rowing when he heard a small noise that seemed out of place. Discretely turning his head, he caught a glimpse of pale skin, and large, watery eyes. The creature Gollum was following them again.

Aragorn and Gandalf had become aware of the misfortunate creature down in Moria, but the elf had never expected him to be able to follow the fellowship so far. It seemed Gollum was craftier than he seemed.

Legolas returned to rowing, making a mental note to inform Aragorn of their stalker.

Several hours before sundown, when the sun was still high in the sky, the Fellowship sailed towards a great, roaring waterfall. On either side of the falls, the land rose in two hilltops crowned by distant ruins. In the center of the rushing water a pinnacle of rock stood immobile in the pounding of the falling water. As the group disembarked on a gravel shore, Boromir looked troubled and conflicted. The Gondorian occasionally sent unreadable looks at Frodo as they made camp.

Aragorn declared, "We cross the lake at nightfall. Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north.*" Gimli retorted, "Oh, yes?! It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better!*" The three hobbits present looked up in worry. Oblivious, the dwarf continued, "Festering, stinking marshlands, far as the eye can see!*" Finally Aragorn interrupted and stated, "That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf.*" Gimli looked offended. "Recover my…?! Phrrrrr…*" Legolas had a bad feeling that was nagging at him. He turned to Aragorn. "We should leave now.*" The ranger shook his head. "No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for cover of darkness.*"

The elf responded quietly, "It is not the eastern shore that worries me. A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near...I can feel it!*"

Aragorn frowned, and looked around the camp suspiciously. The majority of the fellowship was present. Sam, Merry, and Pippin were grouped together, fishing for supper, and Gimli was sharpening his axe. "Boromir and Frodo aren't here. We should check on them." He had seen the odd looks Boromir had been throwing Frodo that day.

Suddenly, the loud blast of a horn echoed from the forest, and Aragorn recognized it with a gasp, "The horn of Gondor!"

The ranger took off in the direction of the sound, Legolas hot on his heels. They had not run more than 50 yards before they stumbled upon Frodo. The hobbit's chest was heaving, and his eyes were frightened. Legolas hung back as Aragorn approached the wary young hobbit.

"Frodo?"

Startled, the hobbit stammered out, "It has taken Boromir.*"

Sharply, Aragorn asked, "Where is the Ring?*"

Frodo scrambled away, screaming, "Stay away!"

"Frodo!"

The hobbit stopped his retreat.

The ranger said in a softer tone, "I swore to protect you!"

With a tremor of hope, the hobbit shakily questioned, "Can you protect me from yourself?" Frodo held his palm out, the ring glinting in the dim light.

"Would you destroy it?*"

Ignoring the rings calls of power and temptation, Aragorn gently closed Frodo's fist around the ring.

He said, "I would have gone with you to the end, into the very fires of Mordor.*"

Frodo seemed to come to a decision. He whispered, "Look after the others, especially Sam. He will not understand.*"

Aragorn started to nod, but was interrupted by the twang of a bow. Legolas had engaged in picking off the charging Uruk-Hai.

"Run, Frodo!" He pushed the hobbit away from the battle and turned, drawing his sword.

He gave a half-smile, and sauntered towards them, touching his sword to his forehead in a gesture of acceptance to the challenge. The first one attacks, and the battle is on.

Amidst the clanging of swords and the spray of bloodshed, they were joined by Gimil, who leapt into the fray with a roar, swinging his axe and chopping through the enemy forces. The trio slowly made ground, forcing their way through to where Boromir was fighting.

They arrived on scene to see Boromir receive three arrows to the chest as he defended Merry and Pippin, who hid behind him. The three hacked desperately at the remaining Uruk-Hai blocking their way from getting to Boromir. Finally, they saw a break in the line and took it. Aragorn immediately sprinted to the creature that held the crossbow and swung his sword with a roar. He cleaved the Uruk-Hai's body in two, blood dripping from his sword as he then whipped around to run to Boromir's side.

The Gondorian was on his back, gasping for a breath that evaded him. Boromir rasped out, "They took the little ones.*"

Aragorn murmured, "Be still.*"

The Gondorian ignored him. "Frodo! Where is Frodo?"

"I let Frodo go.*"

Boromir closed his eyes briefly before reopening them. "Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him.*"

The ranger responded solemnly, "The Ring is beyond our reach now.*"

Desperately, the injured man begged, "Forgive me. I did not see it. I have failed you all. Will you tell Harry, I'm sorry? Please?"

Aragorn reached out to touch the arrows imbedded in the man's chest. "Boromir, you fought bravely! You have kept your honor.*"

The man looked at him bleakly. "Leave it! It is over. The world of men will fall, and all will come to darkness… and my city to ruin.*"

Aragorn said fiercely, "I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the White City fall…nor our people fail!*"

Boromir breathed out, "Our people? Our people."

Aragorn saw the warrior's sword lying next to him, and helped Boromir to clasp it to his chest, along with the broken pieces of the Horn of Gondor.

Boromir struggled to gasp out, "I would have followed you my Brother…my Captain…My King!"

The man's eyes had barely started to dim when a bright white light engulfed him. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli leapt away with a cry, shielding their eyes from the brightness. A few moments later, the spots cleared from their eyes and they were met with the view of a small divet in the forest ground where Boromir had laid, and a small scroll of parchment sitting innocently next to it.

With shaking hands, Legolas picked up the scroll. He read:

"To Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, and Gimli, Son of Gloin,

Greetings from the Valar. I've borrowed Boromir for a bit. It seems he is in less than perfect condition, and I'll have to rectify that. Anyway, have fun chasing those hobbits down!

Best of luck,

Harry Potter, Black Wizard"

A tiny postscript was inserted below the wizard's signature. _ 'Legolas, I love you. See you soon.'_

Legolas barely restrained himself from dancing in joy. The relieved looks on Gimli and Aragorn's faces when they heard that Harry was taking care of Boromir faded into determination when they heard his next sentence. They were going hunting.

…

**End of Chapter 8**

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